Outnumbered
by SophieRomanoff
Summary: On a mission gone awry, Clint and Natasha are tested with four rooms. Each hold an important Shield agent and they must play on their strengths and work together to free them all.


Hey! Enjoy day 29 and prepare yourself for there only being 2 more after this, I'm trying to 😥

OUTNUMBERED

Clint and Natasha were not strangers to be outnumbered. They would come out of a fight twenty to two relatively unscathed, 30 to two and they were worse off, 40 to two and they were hopelessly, hilariously outgunned.

They fought valiantly, taking down more than half of the agents before they were taken down themselves.

Natasha managed to grunt into her comms for Coulson to send in the damn reinforcements already before pain blinded her and everything darkened.

...

"Natasha? Nat, you with me?" A voice finally filtered into the darkness and Natasha groaned softly in response.

"Thank fuck." She heard as she struggled to open her eyes.

"Natasha please, The B team is trapped, they can't get in, we're on our own."

That got her attention and she forced her eyes open, ordering her muscles to stop their bitching as she sat up.

"What's going on?" She mumbled, rubbing at her temple and hissing sharply through her teeth.

"They blocked the way in, Coulson is on the outside and we're stuck in here."

"Great." She grunted, tugging at her wrists to find them bound with rope.

Compared to chains, ropes were easy.

Clint had obviously already gotten his off and Natasha took a few seconds to wriggle out of hers.

"We took down half of their men and they leave us in the corner barely restrained?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, nothing about this seems right. Comms have gone dead." Clint murmured, heaving her up to her feet.

She took a moment to settle the swaying of the room and frowned. "The door is open. What the fuck is this?"

Everything about the mission screamed trap.

"You first." Clint said dryly, sweeping his arm in the direction of the door.

Natasha rolled her eyes and took cautious steps to the light.

Their weapons were gone, even the ones hidden under clothes so they weren't stupid, they were...what? Testing them?

The assassins headed into the corridor, exchanging silent words.

There were four rooms coming off the hallway and a quick check in each one showed them one of their own trapped in different ways.

Phil tied up with steel chains.

Maria behind a glass wall with seemingly no way in.

Melinda May strapped to a table, leather bindings around her body.

And lastly, the one that made the least sense, Jasper Sitwell behind metal bars.

Natasha went back to Clint, shrugging her shoulders.

"This makes no sense. It feels like some sort of fucked up...test."

Clint rubbed his face as peered into each room.

"They're all in different restraints. We have to figure out how to...get them out, I guess." He frowned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"So...espionage, breaking and entering, they're playing into our strengths." She murmured.

"I guess we take it one room at a time." He shrugged, on edge.

Neither of them liked not having all the details.

They entered the first room, Carefully looking over Phil.

"Vitals are strong, he's just unconscious." Natasha murmured.

"Scan the room." She told him, waving her hand to the left side.

It took them thirty minutes at least to find something to pick the locks on the chains.

When they did, it was a bobby pin, high up on the ceiling, Clint's forte.

They would have missed it if Clint hadn't insisted on climbing up there.

Natasha sharpened the pin on the wall and then Phil was free. They left him against the wall, moving to the next room.

Hill was next, behind a pane of glass that wouldn't even crack as they threw their weight against it.

Natasha pulled Clint back, inspected the joining where the wall met the clear material.

She checked every seam and every inch of the glass before humming.

"I...think it's just...a balance thing. It doesn't make sense but go to the very right of the wall, press one hand on the glass, one on the wall. When I say push, push."

Finding loopholes- Natasha's forte.

All their weight on one place wouldn't do anything. If they spread their weight against the weakest parts...

"Push!" Natasha ordered, on the left side of the wall. She could just feel the glass give a little.

"We need more." She murmured, taking a step back before running and slamming into the glass. A large crack appeared where she'd landed and she grinned despite the pain from what she was pretty sure was a dislocated shoulder.

She ran into the glass again, Clint doing the same.

Soon the glass was splintering and cracking into larger pieces.

Hill wasn't in restraints so they pulled her over to the door and moved to the next room.

May, strapped to a table.

Natasha threw her hand out as Clint moved to touch her. "No, don't. Something isn't right with these bindings."

She frowned and looked around the room, in the corner was a stick.

She raised an eyebrow and picked it up, trying to figure it out.

It was thin, would be no use as a weapon.

Finally it clicked and she pressed the end of the stick to the binding around Melinda's waist.

The bindings moved, flexing up and wrapping around the stick.

"Fuck." Clint grunted from beside her.

"Yeah, fuck. If we touch them, they'll wrap around us and we'll all be stuck here." She sighed.

They sat down in the corner, silently thinking for at least twenty more minutes.

"Maybe the bindings are just meant for one person. If...if we both touch them together..." Natasha murmured.

"Maybe we can break out of them." Clint hummed, nodding. "We've got no other option."

They stood and walked towards May. They held hands and one the count of three both reached for the bindings.

In seconds, the material was flexing and moving, winding around them and knocking them to the ground.

"Don't let go of my hand!" Clint grunted, straining and fighting.

It took all the energy they had but after a few minutes of frantic struggling, the bindings began to snap.

Tired and breathing heavily, they dragged May off the table and to the door.

The last room. Sitwell behind metal bars.

They immediately began searching, combing the floor and ceiling for anything to use. They came up empty.

They'd been searching for an hour, had gone through all the previous rooms and the corridor, still finding nothing.

They sank down in the last room, Natasha's head bleeding again. She was visibly flagging and her eyelids fluttered despite clinging to her desperate control.

That's why she thought she'd imagined what she'd seen next.

There was a tiny window in the last room, one they'd both tried to pry open but it was so small they would've never been able to climb through anyway.

But the sun was setting past the window and as the sunbeams filtered in through the window, they didn't shine on the bars like they should have.

Natasha frowned and forced herself to her feet, dropping down and touching a hand to the bars.

"You have got to be fucking shitting me." Clint growled from behind her, reaching towards them too.

He pulled the bars apart easily, eyebrows raising.

Natasha felt herself giggle, almost hysterically. "They're rubber!" She laughed, throwing her head back and giggling.

When she'd controlled herself, they pulled Sitwell into the corridor.

"Now we figure out how to get out of-" Clint froze as a figure stood behind Natasha, a gun pressed to her temple.

"Sitwell what the fuck are you doing?" Clint growled, taking a step forward.

The man's eyes flashed. "I see you liked my test." He breathed. "I wasn't sure you'd pass all four rooms but I hoped you would."

"You did all this?" Natasha spat, fists clenching.

"Why?" Clint glowered.

"I had to prove you were the best to them." He pointed to a wall behind him.

They watched with wide eyes as the wall they'd been in front of slid open, revealing the thirteen agents they hadn't managed to take down.

"Why?!" Clint spat again.

"Because I'm getting a fucking amazing price for you." Sitwell grinned. "But I needed to prove you were as good as I'd said. Are we done here?" Jasper murmured, pushing Natasha to the men.

His mistake was letting go of the oy leverage he had.

Clint struck, Natasha not far behind.

Sure, they were outnumbered. Most of the time they were.

But they'd already taken most of the agents earlier and now, it was a piece of cake with rage burning through their veins.

By the time the men were dead, Sitwell had tried running.

He was stopped by three very pissed Shield agents.

Hill, Coulson and May had him in hand so Natasha didn't feel bad about sinking into Clint.

She was exhausted, mentally and physically and she badly needed a shower and some food.

"Hey, Tash, we make a fucking awesome team huh?" Clint grinned, tiredly slinging an arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, Clint. We do." She murmured.

Then she passed out.

...

She woke up on the quinjet, bandages around her head, shoulder wrapped up, shivering under a thin blanket.

She cleared her throat and elbowed Clint beside her in a chair.

"Hey Hawk ass, I'm freezing, get up here and hug me."

Clint hummed, sliding up beside her, encasing her in his arms.

"Sitwell has fucking lost it. He started screaming when they hauled him onto the jet, May very happily knocked him out to shut him up."

"That was the most bizarre mission we've ever had." Natasha grunted.

"Agreed." Clint chuckled. "But, it did show us how well we work together. We match, two pieces of a fucking kick ass puzzle." Clint hummed, tucking his chin against her hair.

Natasha snorted, closing her eyes and leaning into him.

"Two pieces of a kick ass puzzle indeed."

/Can you tell I fucking hate Sitwell lmao. Also I have no idea what I just wrote so


End file.
